


November 12

by Verlaine



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Gen, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-17
Updated: 2011-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-19 12:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verlaine/pseuds/Verlaine





	November 12

My granddad's buried out in no-man's-land somewhere—  
The body never found  
After the shells turned half the world to bloody sludge.  
They say men drowned there in the mud,  
Eye to eye with the skulls of comrades gone before.  
I don't read books about that war.  
When you're a soldier and you've seen the worst  
That man can do to man  
(I was in Biafra. Say no more.)  
The reasons why a million had to die  
Mean less than a handful of the stinking earth.  
I killed a man today, because he held the gun  
That would have brought some dignitary down.  
"Well done," said my commander.  
Would he say that if he knew  
The only life that mattered there today was you?

 

My father fought his way across the sand to Egypt—  
El Alamein they called the place—  
Where Rommel made his stand, and what was to last a thousand years  
Went down to dusty death inside a week.  
He came home broken by the pain.  
When all parades and banners had gone by,  
Left on the dole, ashamed, betrayed  
By those he'd fought and killed for,  
His life a wreck of blood and dirt,  
Then in his shame he tried to break us too.  
(I've never told you where that scar comes from.)  
You followed me today, across a burning roof,  
The bullets like a deadly sandstorm whispering by.  
You trusted me to see us through, and laughed  
Amid the firefight. What cost?  
Would anything survive if you were lost?

 

No uniform for me. Not anymore.  
Once the badge I wore read "Who Dares Wins",  
Proclaimed in light of day that those who earned it  
Stood among the proud, the best this country had.  
Today the rules of engagement are in the smaller print:  
"By any means necessary".  
No cenotaph, sunshine, not for us when we are gone,  
What we do for Queen and country hidden in the dark.  
You say we make a difference.  
If that's true, I know it's mainly due to you.  
(I've done worse than drown men in the mud.)  
Your conscience marks the line that keeps me right  
With man and God and maybe even self.  
On the day the Reaper comes and calls the bill,  
I'll go down to the ground without a qualm  
If my blood in the mud keeps you from harm.


End file.
